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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873313">cover me in rag and bone sympathy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester'>wolfchester</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i set a fire in a blackberry field [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, bucky's childhood, diary entries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:40:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>bucky’s childhood up until he joined the war and fell off that train.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Rebecca Barnes Proctor, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i set a fire in a blackberry field [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cover me in rag and bone sympathy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>let's take a dive into bucky's childhood, shall we?</p><p>(song for this title is: 'sorrow' by the national)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">cover me in rag and bone sympathy</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sorrow found me when i was young</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sorrow waited, sorrow won</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sorrow they put me on the pill</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>it's in my honey, it's in my milk</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>- <em>sorrow - </em>the national -<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>who are you,little i<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(five or six years old)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>peering from some high<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>window;at the gold<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>of november sunset<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(and feeling:that if day</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>has to become night<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>this is a beautiful way)<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>- <em>who are you,little i</em> - e.e. cummings -</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>June 11th, 1927</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom died on Thursday. We had her funeral today. She gave me this journal for my birthday last year. I’m ten now. I thought it was dumb. But I am writing in it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad says I need to be strong for Becca. But he doesn’t know Becca is already strong. I only saw her cry twice this whole day. I cried like ten times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I miss Mom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>August 17th, 1927</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorry Mom for not writing in this journal more. You would maybe have said something like “writing is good for you” and “read more books.” I wish you were here. Even to nag at me to do my homework.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today is Becca’s birthday. Dad took us to Coney Island and got us ice cream. It was fun. We laughed a lot. But I still miss Mom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>September 23rd, 1927</b>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a new kid at school this year. His name is Steven Rogers, but everyone calls him Steve. Actually, they call him a lot of things. Lots of bad names. He’s kinda small so he gets picked on. I saw him outside the school gate getting pushed around by Ben and Harry in the year above. I think they tried to take his lunch money. I’m bigger than Ben even though I am the year below so I told him to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, fine. I pushed Ben around a bit too. Sorry Mom. But Steve turned out okay! And I didn’t get in trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and me are friends now. He’s coming over to play next weekend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>October 2nd, 1927</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I found out that Steve’s dad died when he was a soldier in the War. It is kinda nice that both of us don’t have a parent. It helps me with missing my Mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad let Steve and me go play in the park, but we had to take Becca. She was fine. She just played with her dolls in the grass. Me and Steve pretended we were soldiers on the playground. Dad says we shouldn’t play at soldiers because he fought in the Great War and he’s still all messed up about it and stuff. But I like pretending like I can shoot a gun. Steve’s good at pretending to die too. He makes a big show of it and falls onto the ground all dramatic. It makes Becca get scared but it makes me laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hope we get to be best friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>December 24th, 1927</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Today is Christmas Eve! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I helped Dad make the fire and we got to roast marshmallows. Becca got some all over her face. Gross!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Me and Steve have been hanging out together lots. I think we are best friends now. I think Mom would like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today we set out cookies for Saint Nicholas and lit a candle for Mom. I am so excited for tomorrow!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>January 31st, 1928</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Today was a snow day. I didn’t have school! I went to Steve’s house instead and we played outside in the snow. We made trenches in the garden and pretended we were soldiers in the War. Steve even got his dad’s old medals and wore them until his mom came and told him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>March 10th, 1928</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m eleven today! Dad and Becca got me this toy train I saw in the window of Barnaby’s a couple of months ago. Even though I think I’m getting a bit old for trains now, I still love it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since it is Saturday, Dad took me, Becca and Steve to Coney Island. We got to eat hot dogs for dinner and an ice cream cone for after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is kinda scared of heights, but I still made him come on the Cyclone with me. I think the ice cream must not have been good in his stomach, because he vomited </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> over the ground afterwards. I felt kinda bad ‘cause I think Steve was real embarrassed. I think he thought Dad was gonna be mad at him, but Dad just laughed it off and told Steve it was okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s turning eleven soon, too, and we’re gonna go to the pictures to celebrate. His birthday is in July. July Fourth - how crazy is that!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>May 16th, 1928</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I got into trouble at school again for fighting. Dad got real mad at me. I know he was super mad because he didn’t yell at me. He just said stuff like “I’m very disappointed in you” and looked all sad about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hope he doesn’t think I’m a bad kid. I know Mom would be mad at me, too. But they don’t understand! I didn’t fight Frankie because I wanted to. He was picking on this little kid on the playground and he wouldn’t stop pushing him around. And he tries to pick fights with Steve all the time ‘cause Steve’s small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think that sometimes you gotta fight the bad guys instead of being nice and stuff and “turning the other cheek” like Miss Evans in Sunday School says. Otherwise, the bad guys just win!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad should know that better than anybody. He’s a soldier. He knows how to hurt the bad guys. I wanna be a soldier like Dad, because then I can beat up the bad guys without getting told off all the time about it. Maybe then there will be less people to pick on kids like my buddy Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>April 5th, 1936</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I found this old journal in a pile of stuff I moved out of Dad’s house the other week. I haven’t written in it for so long, it almost feels wrong to try and write in it now. But today feels like a good day to start again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We had the funeral for Steve’s mom today. Reminded me a lot of my Mom’s. Not many people attended, seeing as Steve doesn’t have siblings and his dad died when he was a kid. God, I feel so bad for the guy. You should have seen his face. I’ve never seen him look so low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I offered for him to come and stay with me, but he refused. He can be so stubborn sometimes. I love the guy, of course. He’s my best friend. But sometimes I wish he would pull his head out of his ass and see that I’m here to help him. I want to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I just hope he’s gonna be okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>August 21st, 1936</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and I got into art school! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a pretty big achievement, even though it’s just a community college. Dad says he can’t justify spending the big bucks to get me into a fancy school, especially when we should really be saving for Becca’s education. She’s much more likely than me to actually do something with her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, hey, it feels good to say I’m now a college student. Steve and I signed up for a bunch of the same classes. I’m most interested in the one on American Art History and he likes the sound of Nude Modelling. I’m kidding, I’m kidding! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s already an amazing artist. I can’t wait to see what he’ll turn out like after college. Probably some famous cartoonist or an architect or something. His sketches are incredible. He’s sketched me a couple times. I stuck up one of the pictures on my wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, and Steve finally gave in to my idea of rooming together while we’re at college! The apartment we found is dingy and gross but it will do the trick. It will be a grand old time, rooming with my best friend. Until one of us tries to bring a girl home, of course. Ha ha.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>June 14th, 1943</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow I ship out for England. I’m gonna be away for a while, so I guess I better write one more time in here. I doubt I’ll take this old journal over with me. It’s got to be almost twenty years old by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight I’m taking Steve out to the Stark Expo. We’ve got a couple of cute dates - might pass the time nicely. Last time I’ll see a pretty girl for a while, I’m sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know when I’ll be home. Or what the War will be like. I’ve been in the army since ‘41, training up for this day. Part of me is excited to actually be amongst the action. Punch some Nazis, or whatever. But there’s a whole other part of me that’s scared fucking shitless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hate leaving Dad and Becca and Steve. Dad’s proud of me. “Turning out just like your old man!” he says, and I think that’s a compliment from his end. Becca’s got a boyfriend and she’s going to college, so at least she won’t be lonely. But Steve’s got no one but me. At least, no one who cares about him as much as me. I’m going to miss him. Hey, maybe I’ll even see him over there? He’s tried to sign up so many times, they’ve gotta let him in at least once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyway. That’s me. I guess I’ll write in this again when I get home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do look forward to it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come scream about bucky with me on tumblr @jjmaybank xoxo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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